


Picasso

by EmillieDaisey



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: F/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-18 07:55:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 21,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28988856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmillieDaisey/pseuds/EmillieDaisey
Summary: "I don't believe in your magic but I fall for it time and time again...""If I didn't have you, what would I do?"{spencer reid x female oc}
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 21
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

The café was silent as one would expect at this time of day. The only individuals you’d predict to see at this early hour of the day are those grabbing their daily coffee before their morning shift, or the very few who like to claim their seat for the day, productivity on their mind. Either way, the sunrise was always beautiful when it came through the front windows.

For myself, it’s the second of the two, seeing as I don’t have to make my way to my small studio until shortly after noon. There’s a few regulars that I recognise from my chair that sits itself towards the front window of the store, but there’s a man I’ve never seen before. He’s tall, on the skinner side, with long-ish slicked back hair. Although I never would’ve taken a second glance towards him in a normal situation, he had the natural light hitting him at a specific angle, making his skin glow and his eyes a golden brown, almost like honey.

My pencil is almost automatically drawn to the small open notebook that is placed in my lap, my hand moving rapidly as I take small glances towards the man who caught my attention. I start with small shapes and ovals to gain the way that he sits, leaning back in his seat, his right ankle resting on his left knee, coffee in one hand, a beige folder resting on his lap with his other hand moving across the page.

I pause, resting my pencil in the centre of the notebook, leaning myself forward to take a sip of my now lukewarm coffee. I cringe at the temperature; coffee should always be hot. I’ve always found the taste changes when drinking cold coffee, and not in a good way. I place the half empty cup back on the table, pushing it away from me ever so slightly before resuming my drawing.

I work more on the details, the small wave in his hair, the way it’s tucked neatly behind his ear. I try to capture to concentration in his eyes, the way they move quickly as he read the contents of the folder, the way the sunlight casts a small shadow across his face from his nose and eyelashes. He looked breathtakingly perfect for a moment, I struggled to take my eyes away. And then, the moment was gone as he adjusted his position to be more comfortable. I had to tear my eyes away, turning my attention on shading the dark colour of his slacks, not worrying about the texture at that moment. It’s not very often that I find the need to draw something, rather than to want to.

I glance back up to get another glance at the stranger, but he’s disappeared, almost like he’s vanished into thin air, I scan the area, my eyes searching for him.

“Oh god, does my hair really look like that?” A voice said from behind me. I jump in my seat turning around to see the man I was drawing directly behind my chair. My hand moves across to rest on my chest.

“Why would you sneak up behind someone like that? Are you crazy? I could have a bad heart and a jump scare like that could kill me!” I exclaimed, heart pounding harder in my chest as I look up at him.

His eyes dart down to my arms and wrists before moving back to my face.

“Well, if that were to be true, then you would most likely have a medical wristband that would tell a paramedic, if one was needed, about your condition, so that they would know not to use any drug that increases blood pressure because that would be too much for your heart. They would also know to complete an echocardiogram on arrival to a hospital because of the fact that your heart could be weakened during a stressful event or accident. You don’t have one of those, and it doesn’t seem like you have ever worn one, so I don’t think that you do have any type of heart condition.” He spoke quickly, taking few breaths between sentences.

“What, are you some kind of doctor?” My tone of voice showed my confusion, the pitch rising slightly in defence.

He smiled and looked towards the ground before once again meeting my eyes.

“Not a medical one, but I do have 2 PHD’s meaning that I do, indeed, have a doctorate title.”  
“That still doesn’t excuse you to creep up behind people and scare them.” I retort, a laugh resting in my words.

He laughs with me.

“Okay, point taken. I was just curious because you kept looking up towards me and then doing something on your notepad. I’m sorry if I scared you.”

I smiled at him. He goes to move away from me, towards the front door.

“Hey...” He turns back to me. “Do you have somewhere to be right now?”

He glances down to his small watch that sits neatly on his wrist.

“I actually have to leave for work, I’m running a little bit late as it is.” He has a neutral, almost sad look on his face.

“Okay then, do I at least get to put a name to your face?” My words put a smile back onto his face. His hands move quickly into his satchel that sits across his shoulder. He pulls out a small piece of paper and hands it to you. The mysterious man turns and leaves pulling the glass door shut behind him.

I look down at the thick paper in my hand. It had an FBI logo at the top and reads ‘Dr. Spencer Reid. SSA of the BAU, Quantico.’ It includes a personal and office phone number, placed in small print at the bottom of the card. I didn’t expect him to be the FBI type.

I tuck the card into my notebook before closing it and placing it on top of the table. I grab my cold cup of coffee, walking up to the counter to order another cup. I thank the cashier before moving back to my table. A smile never leaves my face as I think of him.

Spencer Reid. That’s a name I’d like to say more often. It’s a face I’d enjoy seeing again.


	2. Chapter 2

After my routine morning coffee, I spent the afternoon in my studio organising online orders, ones of small prints containing flowers and small doodles, packing them neatly with pastel blue tissue paper and stamping them with a small wax seal. The process causes a familiar ache in my back after a long period of time. In an attempt to relieve the pain, I place my hands against my hips and lean side to side, the loud crack sending shivers down my spine.

I lean back against my chair, deciding that a break is well needed. I spin my chair around, looking at the room as a whole. My eyes meet an incomplete canvas, my fathers. He loved to paint. It was his favourite pass time, but he struggled with it when he got sick. When he eventually passed, he gave us his last gift. I found out he had left all of the property that he owned to myself; his beloved art studio; the house we lived in, in Quantico; and his parents' house in California which he rented out for some extra money. He left the majority of his personal belongings to my brother, Isaac, and then split any money left evenly between my mother, brother and myself.

His painting was still on the easel, and although unfinished, it was absolutely breath taking. It had started as an autumnal landscape piece, but was built upon with thick layers of paint, again and again until it had a unique texture to it, one that was almost irresistible to touch. I hope that he would be proud of what I was doing, making money off of my art, very small amounts nonetheless, but it was still a profit. He had always told me to do what I love and to go with my gut.

I only worked in his studio when I had the afternoon off of my part-time job at the local radio station where I worked as a broadcaster technician. Most often, I would work with the afternoon host from 2pm to 6pm, occasionally doing the overnight shift for extra side money, but only if Isaac was staying over at a friend's house. It was a job that I enjoyed, but not what I really wanted to do.

My phone ringing loudly interrupted the silence that filled the studio.

A sigh left my lips as I recognised the number that came onto the small screen. I flip open my phone and held it against my ear.

“Hello?” There was a small pause.

“Good afternoon. May I speak to Isaac’s mother? I’m calling from Grace Point Academy.” Her voice sounded cold and bored.

“I am his legal guardian. What’s the issue?” What was this boy up to now?

“We’re going to need you to come in and collect him from the principal's office. He’s had another physical altercation with a student. The principle is required to speak with you in person due to the severity of this event. As discussed, he has exceeded his warnings and is facing possible suspension so it is vital you arrive as soon as possible.”

My hand runs over my face as I let out another sigh. “Right, okay. I’ll be there in 15 minutes.”

“Perfect. We’ll see you soon Ms. Lewis.” Fake politeness flooded her tone once she realised that I was going to cooperate with her.

I shut my phone, placing it on my desk before resting my head in my hands. At the ripe age of 22, I will have a heart attack if this boy continues the way he has been.

I pack up my belongings and lock up the studio, frantically getting into my car.

As I approach the school, I realise that the outfit I changed into at the studio wasn’t the most appropriate. I was wearing paint covered baggy sweatpants (they definitely belonged to an ex-boyfriend), an old university sweater that belonged to my father, with pens and pencils still sticking out of my bun from where I had placed them earlier for safekeeping. My spare clothes from the morning, however, were lucking in the backseat of the car.

Without a second thought I changed back into the jeans I was wearing this morning, and replaced my painting attire with my knitted maroon jumper. The jeans were easy enough to slip into once I had removed the sweatpants, but unfortunately the sweater decided to get stuck on my necklace and not let me fully pull it over my head. I tugged on it a few times, which only caused a thread to come loose, but eventually the jumper slipped over my body.

A sharp knock occurred on the window, making me jump in my skin for the second time today.

I get out of the car, my face turning bright red as I see a broad-shouldered man holding a tray of coffee’s. He seemed to be amused at my situation.

“What? You think perving on women changing in their car is funny, do you?” My tone of voice lacking any emotion except anger.

He let out a small laugh. “No no no. However, I’m pretty sure that public indecency in front of a school is illegal.” I feel the colour leave my face. _Fuck_.

“Shit, you’re not a police officer, are you? I’m so sorry, I’m meant to be meeting with the principle about my little brother and… and I wasn’t dressed appropriately so I had to change and oh god, you’re going to arrest  me aren’t you?” The word stumbled from my mouth, panic visible through the tears coming to my eyes. He removes one of the hands from the coffee to move his hand side to side in a ‘no’ motion.

He chuckled again. “Don’t worry, I’m FBI, so not technically a police officer. I was actually coming over to ask if you needed any help or directions to somewhere you could get changed privately.”

“ Oh thank fuck for that. Thank you, but I am really sorry, I have to go, I’m going to be late.” That’s the second FBI agent I’ve met today. What are the odds in that?

“Oh yeah, of course. But, before you do, and I promise I’m no creep, but how about a drink sometime? You could give me your number and I’ll call you?” He had a pretty  smile; I give can him that. 

“I really appreciate the offer, but I’m very busy and I’m also not really looking for anything at the minute. But thank you, really, I’m flattered…” His face drops ever so slightly, almost like he didn’t want me to see his disappointment. My eyes dart down to check the time on my phone. “Shit, I’m sorry, I have to go. It was nice to meet you…” I pause waiting for his name.

“Derek…” He reaches for my hand to shake. “Morgan.” His phone begins to ring.

I smile at him again. “Faye Lewis.” I release his grip and walk towards the school. I can hear him answering the call as I walk away.

The inside of the school is quiet as I make my way towards the front office, most likely because of the kids being in their classes rather than the hallways. It made me feel like I was the one in trouble, walking down these halls alone. Not many things had changed, other than the teachers, since I had attended the school. The walls were still covered in billions of posters about upcoming school productions and campaigns. It reminded me of when times were simpler. Times were all I worried about was whether the hot jock knew my name or if I would be able to get my essay in before it’s deadline.

I eventually reach the main office, straightening my back and tilting my head up a little bit as my father had taught me, to assert my parental dominance. The dolled-up receptionist sat quietly looking at some kind of gossip magazine. I fake clearing my throat in an attempt to get her attention. Nothing.

“Excuse me?” She rolls her eyes before looking up towards me.

“Can I help you?” Her voice dull and monotone.

“Yeah, I’m here to see Principal Davis. I’m Isaac Lewis’  guardian .”

Her expression doesn’t change as she picks up the phone on her desk and dials a number, tapping each button with her long nail.

“Hi… Yes, she’s here… Okay, I’ll send her in.” She put the phone back on the rack before looking back at me.

“You can go on in.” She points towards the door on her right. 

I smile, thanking her but she was quick to return to her magazine.


	3. Chapter 3

**Spencer’s POV**

I walk into the elevator with a smile bright on my face, my hands clutching the strap of my bag that crosses over my chest. It’s not often that a girl leaves an impression on me. I can’t seem to get her off my mind. Her piercing blue eyes, as complex and beautiful as the Atlantic Ocean. Her sweet smile was unmatched however, she made me feel safe and comfortable. The subtle glances she gave me as she was drawing me had my stomach in knots and my heart rate above average. My body forced me towards her before I even acknowledged what I was doing. It was like an out of body experience. I can barely recall much of what I said once I was in her presence. A breath-taking girl. A girl who I don’t even know the name of. I had one job and all I could muster up to do is comment on her sketch.  _ Well done. _

“Who gave you the smile, pretty boy?” My deep thought was interrupted by Morgan, his arms crossed with a grin stretching from ear to ear. I look down towards the floor in an attempt to hide from his questioning eyes. “What, did you get laid? Oh, come on, I want details.”

I shake my head at him, the thought making me blush. “No, erm, actually I met a girl this morning.”

“And? Tell me about her.” His hand moves to rest his hand on my shoulder, shaking it slightly.

“Well, I don’t really know anything about her.” My eyes move to meet his for a second, moving again to look at the floor before another blush consumes my cheeks.

“Well, when are you going to get to know her  then. ” He seems a bit confused about why I was happy with the outcome, although a smile still sat on his lips.

The door of the elevator opens and we walk out together. Morgan opens the glass door into the bullpen and I move straight over to my desk, taking my bag off of my shoulder. Before I place it underneath my desk, I pull out a folder that I was reading this morning, the one I couldn’t concentrate on, once I noticed her wondering eyes.

Morgan approaches me again. “Well?”

He sits on the edge of my desk space. “Well, I gave her my number. One of the FBI cards.”

Now it’s his time to be overjoyed. “My man!” He pulls me into a tight hug.

“I don’t know why you’re so excited. She probably won’t even call.”

Elle walks towards us while Morgan finally releases me from his grip. Her eyebrows raised as she begins interrogating. “Who won’t call you?”

Before I could respond, Derek speaks for me. “Pretty boy met a girl and gave her his number.”

Elle’s face falls into a frown before turning into a tight smile as a blush  floods mine. Her smile is obviously fake, it doesn’t reach her eyes and her posture seems stiff. “Spencer, that’s great.  Of course she’s going to call, you’re a catch.” She knows that what she said is what I wanted to hear. I move away from the pair and start on my second cup of coffee for the day. This one being nowhere near as good as the one from this morning, it’s bitter and tastes slightly of burnt toast but I swallow it down in hopes it’ll give me a burst of energy for the day.

The rest of the day consisted of catching up on unfinished paperwork from previous cases. I was on my sixth cup of coffee, or maybe it was my seventh – I've lost count. The mood, although not a bad one, was sombre, dull even.

We were all mostly quiet, the odd pen clicking and a page being turned alongside the constant tapping of the computer keyboards was the only things that could be heard for a few hours. Shifting through cases, especially the tougher ones, strained my eyes forcing an acute headache to occur. I believe that I’m one of those people that try to drown themselves in coffee, in an attempt to get their work completed more quickly. Because of this, when Morgan attempted to pour himself a new cup, the pot was empty, barely a drop in there.

“Alright, who used the last of the coffee? Did you not  wanna put on a new pot?” His voice was slightly tense. His eyes darted around the room, Elle looks up from her work and shrugs her shoulders. I keep my head down, realising my mistake. “I guess I’ll go on a one-time only offer coffee  run. Who wants what?”

Elle smiled at this. “ Oooh , can I have a latte with two pumps of hazelnut?” He wrote it quickly on a small sheet of paper. His head rose to look in my direction.

“Reid? Cup of sugar with a drop of coffee, right?” His eyes now showed amusement, teasing me because of my extremely sweet order. I roll my eyes at him.

“Just a black coffee, thanks.” He raised an eyebrow at my response. “What? I don’t like the way you do it. I’ll add some sugar when you get back.”

He smiled at me again, before shaking his head and announcing that he shouldn’t be longer than 15 minutes, moving towards Garcia’s office, I’m only assuming to check whether or not she wants a cup.

When it got to the 25-minute mark, Elle decided she would check in on him, really only being worried about her coffee getting cold.

“Morgan, you’ve been gone for almost a half hour, where are you?” She pauses for his response. “Okay, but coffee does go cold you know.” She smiles at something he says. “Ooh, Morgan that’s not like you. Seems like Reid is our ladies' man from now on.” She pauses again. My ear perks up at the mention of my name. “Oh, come on, it’s not an insult, I’m just saying that you love a females attention.” Another pause. “Just bring me my coffee Morgan before it becomes any colder.”

She hangs up the phone with a laugh.

“Morgan said he just asked a girl for drinks and he struck out.” A small laugh leaves my lips.

“That’s a first.” I’m genuinely surprised, I’ve personally never seen Morgan not get someone to agree to drinks.

When he eventually returned the coffee that he held in his hands had become tepid. Elle’s nose scrunched up in disgust as she took a sip. I tested the temperature of my own drink, before deciding that topping it up with some hot water from the tea kettle was a good call, adding some sugar into it as well, while I was in that spot.

As I settle back into my desk chair I look over at Morgan. “Morgan, how is it that you didn’t succeed in asking a girl out? Women always swoon over you.”

Elle puts herself into the started conversation. “Hey, me and JJ definitely did not swoon over Morgan.”

Morgan chuckles at her comment. “Don’t be rude, I know you made eyes at me when you first started here.”

She shakes her head in his direction. I speak up again. “Based on statistics, it would be a low percentage of women who would say no to someone like you, especially when you include your build, height and facial bone structure.”

“Reid, shut up. You know why I call you pretty boy. You just  gotta fix up your hair a little bit.”

I’m shocked at his comment. “Why? What’s wrong with my hair?” I brush through my hair with my fingers in attempt to ‘fix’ it.

“Nothing’s wrong with it. I just think you could play around with some different styles, see if anything suits you better.” His smile never leaves his face.

“Yeah, I guess I could try out some new styles.” I only agree to this because of the way I saw my hair in the girl's drawing. It didn’t look the best, so maybe I could attempt to take a bit more pride in my appearance. And maybe if I see her again, I can get her to draw me again.

By 6pm there is still no case, so we all begin to pack up our belongings so that we can actually have a night off. When I got home, I opened the refrigerator, knowing it was empty but checking anyway. Another take-out night, I guess. Before I get the chance to pick up my phone to call the local Chinese restaurant, it chimes. 

_ 1 New Message – From Unknown _

_ “H _ _ ello _ _ ,  _ _ Dr. _ _ Reid, it’s your favourite coffee shop creep.” _ __

A grin breaks out on my face.


	4. Chapter 4

“Are you insane? Are you clinically insane Isaac?” My face started burning as soon as we left the building, but I managed to hold my tongue until we were in the safety of my car, away from all the judgemental looks from parents and teachers. Since I became his legal guardian, the gossip within the community of mothers had been overwhelming, and rather isolating, but I couldn’t keep my anger suppressed any longer. “Do you even realise what you’ve done?” I turn to look at Isaac, his gaze focused on his shoes. “You’re lucky it was only a week suspension and not expulsion!”

“They were talking shit about mom.” He said quietly, almost a whisper, while refusing to meet my eyes. “I couldn’t just sit there.” He moves his body to face the car door. I can see pain shoot through his eyes through the reflection of the window, only for a split second, before it goes back to showing nothing.

“Oh  Iz .” I sigh,  _ I would’ve done the same thing _ . Not that I would let him know that though, I’ve got to  _ try _ and set an example. “I’ll try sort something out, can’t have you running around doing nothing at home. And I’ll speak to your teachers so they can send me work for you to do, we don’t want you falling behind, right?” I give him a weak smile. He knows I care; he knows I’m not mad about why he did it, but he went wrong with what he did. He raises his head to meet my gaze and returns a half-hearted smile. “What about takeout tonight?” I attempt to lift the dry mood of the car. He nods in agreement but remains silent the whole car ride home, the only noise coming from the low hum of the radio.

Before I know it, it’s dark. When we first went home, Isaac ran straight upstairs after kicking off his shoes and pushing them near the door. I move towards the old record player that sits in the corner of the living room. I look through the selection of vinyl's that sat next to it before pulling an old ‘Fleetwood Mac’ album off the shelf and resting the plastic onto the turntable. It’s been a favourite of mine since the day he sat me down and told me the story of how he and my mother first met. It had been at a concert for the band, and he was tightly packed into the crowd and got shoved so hard that he dropped his beer on a woman’s head. Mom had flipped out at his accident, apparently causing a huge scene, and so he had offered to pay for a new shirt from the merchandise stand. And that’s how me and Isaac became a possibility...

I spent the rest of the afternoon organising and reorganising the bookshelves, trying to forget the mess Isaac had caused with the school, and only moving away from my task to change records.

My stomach begins to ache due to the lack of food I had consumed throughout the day. I begin to flick through the various takeaway pamphlets that are stored away in a small kitchen draw. Images of various dishes printed upon the glossy paper sets my stomach on a frenzy, making loud, disturbing noises. “What about Chinese?” I shout out to Isaac. No response. He’s probably got his headset on. He shouldn’t even have it, with the amount of trouble he’s in, but it keeps him quiet for now.

I take the chance and order our usual Chinese, the lady on the phone mentions there’s no delivery services today so I would have to come and collect my order in roughly 30 minutes. I run upstairs, opening Isaac’s door and leaning against the frame, interrupting his game. “Chinese. 30 minutes. Leaving in 20.” He mumbles an okay and returns to his game. "Should you really be playing on that right now?”

He pauses the game for a second before turning to face me, an almost annoyed look on his face. He gives me an answer by handing me his remote.

“Thank you.” Well, at least he made the right choice. “Why don’t you get started on your homework? I know you got some this morning.”

He lets out a sigh before muttering an okay, moving towards his backpack and taking out the books he needed, as well as a pencil case.

While he makes a start on that, I place his controller in my room before making my way to the kitchen, setting out some plates and cutlery ready for the food that we would soon be collecting. While waiting a little longer before getting ready to leave, I decide to neaten up the living room, an instinct telling me to fluff up the couch cushions and straighten the pile of magazines that sit on the small coffee table.

I shout up to Isaac, telling him to grab his shoes and jacket. I grab a jacket of my own, the same one from this afternoon because I’m pretty sure my keys are still in it, throwing my shoes on before making the small trip down to the restaurant. A small card escapes from the pocket as I pull out my keys and lands swiftly onto the hardwood floor. I reach down to grab it and smile as I read its contents.

_ Dr. _ _ Spencer Reid. SSA of the BAU, Quantico. (703) 5432 223 _

I hold it in the same hand as my keys as I pull the door shut behind Isaac and lock it.

I stab in the numbers printed on the card and go to press call but stop for a moment.  _ Too eager, and not with my little brother around _ . I choose to text him instead. 

_ “Hello,  _ _ Dr. _ _ Spencer Reid, it’s your favourite coffee shop creep.”  _ I press send before I can give it another thought. I cringe slightly at my own words and slide my phone back into my pocket so I don’t have to view the words any longer. I put my arm around my brother’s shoulders and pull him close, just in case he felt cold.

To my surprise my phone chimes not even a minute later. I release Isaac from my grip and take the phone out of my pocket. It reads:

_ 1 New Message - ‘ _ _ Dr. _ _ Spencer’ _

_ “Good evening, my favourite coffee shop creep. How’s my sketch coming along?” _

A smile grows across my face along with my cheeks burning up. I write and rewrite my response, unsure of what to say back. I want to be witty, but I don’t want to scare him off.

_ “That’s kind of hard when I don’t have my model :).” _

God that sounds so creepy. But I’m not sure how else to respond. I hit send before I can change my mind, but almost instantly regret what I wrote, overthinking it as usual. I shove my phone into my jacket as Isaac starts to pull forward away from me while we walked, replying to Spencer slowed my walking pace as I was attempting to concentrate.

There was a blast of warm air as we entered the restaurant. There were few people already waiting in a small front section, it had some chairs for people to relax on while they wait. The front counter was empty of customers meaning that I could walk straight up and ask if my collection is ready. Isaac moves away from me as I approached the hostess sat at the counter, taking a seat a few spaces away from someone. I check in to let the staff know that I’m here for collection, paying the cash I owed, before I go to sit next to Isaac, shielding him from the stranger.

I hear my phone chime again. I have a feeling I know who it is, but I check just to be sure.

_ 1 New Message - ‘Dr Spencer’ _

_ “I guess we’ll just have to see each other again.” _

As I read it, a smile fights  its way onto my face, and then another message pops up.

_ “Maybe.” _

And then a third.

_ “That’s if you want to see me again.” _

I can feel his nervousness around the topic. This man is very intriguing. He was mysterious and I liked that. He was different than the normal type of guy that I would go for, that being more like Derek, but it didn’t bother me.

I begin my reply.  _ “I don’t know why I wouldn’t want to Doctor. I want to finish this drawing. I could make a good profit off of it :).” _ Send.

I hear a loud buzz in the room. Isaac turns towards me.

“Did you order those rolls things that I like?” His gaze lingered on my face as I gave him my answer.

“The veggie spring rolls? Yeah,  Iz ,  _ don’t worry, _ I remembered.” He smiles at be thanking me.

Once again, my phone chimes. I turn away from Isaac and look back down towards the small screen.

_ 1 New Message - ‘Dr Spencer’ _

_ “Wow, already taking advantage of me. Ha.” _

He’s so different over text, although seeming nervous, he gave off a calm tone.

The hostess moves briefly to the kitchen window, taking a bag and moving back to the counter.

“Mr Reid?” My head shoots up, recognising the name, wondering if it was actually him.

I turn my head to the left and see Spencer; his jawline is very prominent when looking at his side profile. He stands from the chair, only a few spaces away from my own, and greets the woman at the counter. I don’t think he’s recognised me. He takes the food bag from the woman’s hand, thanking her. As he turns back towards the exit, our eyes meet. He stops his movements towards the door and move towards me.

He smiles.

“Hi.” That’s the only word that falls from his lips. A pink blush fills his pale skin.

My grin matches his. “Hello again,  Dr. Reid.” Isaac tugs on my sleeve, obviously a little uncomfortable with someone, who he knows to be a stranger, talking to me. I turn slightly to him. “It’s okay.” I turn back to Spencer. “Isaac, this is Spencer Reid. Spencer, this is Isaac.”

I nudge my brother slight, so that he gets the message to reach his hand out for Spencer to shake. Spencer looks at Isaacs outstretched arm, but only waves.

“Sorry, I have a thing with germs.” His lips tighten to create a line, before going back to their resting position.

Isaac turns to me again. “Is this who’s been texting you? Because you’ve been smiling like a weirdo every time you look at your phone.” Now it's my turn to have a blush take over my face.

Thankfully the woman from earlier comes back. “Miss Lewis?” She holds another bag in her hand.

“ Iz , can you grab that please?” He does as he’s asked and moves to take the white paper bag off of the woman.

Spencer turns to me again. “He looks a lot like you.” His eyes stare into mine and I struggle to rip my gaze away, looking back towards my little brother.

A chuckle leaves my mouth. “Oh yeah, our parents obviously have strong genes.”

Spencer holds a confused expression before his face becomes neutral again. “Oh, he’s your brother? I’m so sorry, I thought...”

“Thought what?” I interrupt him, baffled at where the confusion had stemmed from.

“I thought he was your son.” He said,  embarrassed .

“God no, that would mean I would’ve been like 10 when I had him.” Isaac approaches us again. I place my hand on his face, brushing his hair from his eyes. “Ready to go, kid?” He nods his head, handing me the bag of food.

“Am I still gonna get grounded? Because you’re in a happier mood now.” A blush rises to my face in embarrassment.

“Yes, you’re still getting grounded. And you should be careful. Spencer works for the  FBI, he could arrest you for what you did.” I pull him into a hug, looking up at Spencer, our height different being very obvious now that we’re stood next to each other. An amazed look fills Isaac’s face.

“Wait, really? That’s so cool! Do you catch bad guys? Do you have a badge? Can I see it?” He takes a second to breathe. “Do you have a gun? Can I see that? Have you ever shot anyone?”

Spencer lets out a small laugh. “How about we arrange a time, and then when we don’t have to worry about all of our food getting cold, I can answer those questions for you.”

Isaac’s smile brightens even more. “Well, we’re only having a movie night tonight? You can bring your food and eat with us!” He turns his head towards me, an excited look on his face. “Can Spencer come and tell me about the FBI?” His eyes are pleading for me to say yes.

“ Iz , Spencer probably had lots of busy plans and-”

Spencer interrupts me. “No, actually I’m completely free.” A small smile sat on his lips.

Isaac looks between the two of us. “Pleaseee?”

“Okay, okay, but only if Spencer doesn’t mind.” I look up at him once again, trying to show him through my eyes that he doesn’t have to agree.

“It would be my pleasure.” Spencer moves to the door of the restaurant, holding it open for both me and Isaac as leave.

As Isaac moves slightly ahead of us, I turn to Spencer for a split second, “Don’t worry Doctor, I’m not going to take advantage of you again.” I wink at him and speed up to catch up with Isaac. Where did that confidence come from?


	5. Chapter 5

When we got back to the house, Spencer takes the bag of food out of my hand while I get the keys out of my pocket and unlock the door.

Once it’s open, Isaac rushes ahead towards the kitchen.

“Shoes!” I call out. He trudges back, kicking his shoes off and putting them in his spot by the door.

I turn to Spencer, who’s looking down at his feet. “Oh, no, you’re fine. He just has a habit of running through mud.” His eyes meet mine and a smile. I lead him through to the kitchen, placing my own bag on the counter and encouraging him to do the same.

I move to grab an extra plate and set of cutlery for Spencer to use. I look up at him, his height towering over me. “Help yourself to anything of ours, I’m sure Isaac doesn’t mind.”

Isaac moves into the room, “As long as he shows me how to shoot his gun, I don’t mind.”

Spencer’s face has a look of horror, “Oh, erm, I don’t think-” 

I interrupt him. “Not happening kiddo.” I move him towards the table with my hands on his shoulders, “Come on, take what you want.” 

Spencer takes off his blazer, resting it on the back of a dining room chair and begins to unpack his own bag, opening containers and transferring food onto his plate. He opens a box of something that resembles balls of fried chicken. Isaac looks up at Spencer, wanting to ask for some, but not willing to back down from his word. Spencer notices his eyes fixed on his box of food and slides it towards him. 

Isaac looks up again with a smile on his face, “Thank you.” He takes a few before sliding the box back to Spencer. He holds the box out to me, offering more of his own to us. I shake my head no with a huge grin on my face, it’s not often that someone gets on Isaac’s good side this quickly. I’m glad though, because it would be nice to get to know Spencer more. 

While the two continue to serve themselves, I move towards a cupboard that sits just out of Isaac’s reach and pull out a bottle of wine. I wait until Spencer lifts his head before lifting the bottle for him to see with a questioning look on my face. He nods a yes before looking back down towards the food. 

I pull out two glasses and pour the red liquid, attempting to make them even, while also trying not to pour too much. I force the cork back into the neck of the bottle, and return the it to its designated area. 

My brother, who was holding a plate full of food, turns to me, “Can we eat in the living room?” I look towards Spencer for a second, before turning back to Isaac. 

“Sure, kid. But I don’t trust you on the couch with that amount of food.” He smiles before moving into the lounge and placing his food on the coffee table with him sitting behind it with his back against the bottom of the couch. 

Spencer and I sat on either side of the couch, once I’d served my own food, picking small bits from both orders, but not fully filling up the plate. Iz picked up the TV remote before passing it to me, quietly telling me that it was my turn to pick something to watch. I choose the classic crime show CSI. 

After a few minutes of quiet eating, a crime scene shows on the television, the ‘agents’ looking around a bedroom with UV lights to search for traces of blood. Spencer pipes up, “Did you know that this show is completely wrong in a lot of ways, the top one being that blood doesn’t glow under Ultra Violet light, that it’s actually things like semen, urine, breast milk among other things.” Isaac pauses mid bite, looking up at the nerd, a disgusted look on his face. “I- Uh, sorry.” 

“Dude, how do you know that?” Even though Isaac is disturbed by the fact, he is definitely also intrigued by Spencer’s knowledge. 

Spencer’s lips move to a light line, before returning to their natural form. “I have a PHD in Chemistry, and I work on a lot of crime scenes.” The pair go back to eating, the subject apparently no longer disturbing. 

Now, it’s my turn to speak up. “So, you never actually told me what it is that you do, I know that you’re part of the BAU, whatever that means, but I don’t actually know what you do there.” 

“BAU stands for the Behavioural Analysis Unit. In short, we create profiles for serial killers that make it easier to catch and arrest them.” He seems proud of his work, a good trait to have. 

“So, can I see your badge?” Isaac looks expectantly towards the cute FBI agent. 

“Isaac, he probably doesn’t have it with him, stop pestering him about it.” Spencer looks up at me before reaching into his inside blazer pocket. 

“Actually, all federal agents have to carry their badges everywhere they go.” He flashes it at Isaac, who reaches forward to touch it, Spencer then hands it to him so that he can take a closer look. He takes it from the doctor's hand before leaving the rest of his food and bolting upstairs. “Hey! I’m going to need that... back.” His voice trailed off as he finishes the sentence, his head turning to face me. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll get it back off of him.” We can hear his heavy steps as he rushes around before eventually coming back down with his hands behind his back. 

“HANDS UP! FBI!” He shouts towards me, Spencer’s badge in his right hand and a nerf gun in his left. I laugh towards him as I raise my hands in the air. Spencer moves his plate from his lap and onto the coffee table before beginning to stand, his face holding a broad smile, and Isaac turns the toy towards him. “Don’t move!” 

“Hey! I’m trying to help catch the unsub. You need two hands on the gun to keep it steady when you shoot.” Isaac looks at Spencer with confusion present on his face. 

“What’s an unsub?” He questions. 

“It’s short for unknown subject, and this unsub is your sister. Hey, do you have any more of these?” He turns to look at me, while standing next to my little brother. “Don’t move.” Isaac hands the gun to Spencer, before once again rushing upstairs. 

Once Isaac is out of sight, Spencer lowers the gun, his fingers still on the trigger, however. He winks at me, as I put my hands back down. 

“You’re surprisingly good with kids.” I’m very impressed with him. 

“Shhhh, put your hands back up, I can hear him coming back.” He resumes his previous position, nerf gun pointed in my directions, his arm held straight. 

He turns his head slightly towards Isaac, whispering. I managed to hear everything that he said, “I warn you, I’m not a very good shot.” 

While they’re distracted, I take my change and make a run for it. I can hear the two boys laughing as they begin to chase me, the foam bullets being shot at me. The laughing stops suddenly, so I change my job into a slow walk, checking my surroundings. I quickly turn a corner, not wanting them to catch up but I smash into something, or rather someone. I trip on Spencer’s shoe, falling into his chest, his hand drops the toy and move to my waist to steady me. My hands land on his chest, and my eyes on his face. 

His cheeks turn beet red and I gaze into his eyes. They were hypnotising, I couldn’t look away. 

Isaac spoils the nice moment by pelting the both of us with pellets from his own toy. Both of us start yelping as we get hit but Spencer is quick to pull me back to him and turn his back to Isaac, only allowing him to get hit. 

After Isaac runs out of ammo, I release myself from Spencer’s grip and move to chase my brother. The smile drops from his face as he realises my intention. He attempts to run away, only making it a few steps before I manage to catch him. 

I wrap my arms tightly around his shoulders, him trying to release himself causing us to sway slightly, both of us laughing loudly. 

“And now, you guys made the mess by shooting me, you can both clear it up.” Isaac lets out a huge sigh, reluctant to do the task, while Spencer brushes his dark hair back so that it’s tucked behind his ear before moving to pick to the foam bullets. 

It only takes them five minutes to collect everything, reload it all into the toys and for Isaac to move it back into his bedroom. Once that’s over with, the boys settle back down onto the couch, their food from before now gone cold, CSI still playing on the television. The two are still quietly giggling to themselves, Spencer making subtle glances up at me while I begin cleaning up. 

Spencer grabs his and Isaac’s plates moving towards me, “Here, let me help.” 

“No, Spence, it’s fine, I’ve got it.” He stops where he stood and smiled at me. “What?” 

“Oh, no it’s nothing.” He glances towards Isaac, who had his eyes on the TV, before continuing his walk towards me. I scrape leftover food from our plates into the trash, piling them up next to the sink. I pour dish soap into the sink, letting it bubble up with warm water. Spencer began closing the takeout boxes and putting them into the fridge in a neat pile. 

I began washing the plates, rinsing off the extra bubbles and placing them neatly in the drying rack. Spencer grabbed a tea towel and began drying them, the two of us working in a calming silence. It was comforting. 

“You’re the second person that’s ever called me Spence.” He speaks quietly with nerves in his voice. 

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t-” He stops me from saying anything else. 

“No, I’m not saying it’s bad, I’m saying I like you calling me Spence. It makes me feel more normal.” His volume is still low, I have to concentrate to hear him properly. 

“What do you mean? You are normal.” His tone is sad, and I try my best to comfort him. 

He shakes his head. “Not at work, I’m a total outsider. I mean, sure I have friends there, I know I could go to Derek for anything, and Elle’s friendly enough.” 

“I’m sure that’s not true at all. From the random facts you’ve told me, it seems like you’re a huge asset to them.” I try to lighten him mood. “Hey, I met a Derek today, he works for the FBI too, I wonder if it’s the same guy.” A laugh leaves my lips as I hand him another plate to dry. 

“Oh, did you get his last name? I’m sure I could get our technical analyst to find him if you wanted to see him again.” His face still seems sad. 

“Erm, I think it might have been Martin? Or Morgan? Yes, it was definitely Morgan!” His head drops down, before lifting up quickly in realisation of something, his frown no longer present on his face. 

“It was you!” He exclaimed. 

“I’m confused. What was me?” 

His eyes light up, a large grin displayed across his face. “You’re the girl that shut Morgan down. He was getting us coffee. And he was taking ages, so Elle called him and he told her that he ‘struck out’ asking a girl out for drinks.” 

Oh god. What are the odds that the two guys I meet coincidentally work together? 

We both settle into the comfortable silence once again before he speaks quietly again. 

“So, why did you say no?” 

I try to think of something, but to be honest I don’t know why I made up an excuse. 

Before I can answer, Spencer’s phone begins to ring. He dries off his hand before reaching into his pocket to answer it. 

“Dr. Reid...” A pause, I can hear a woman’s voice on the other end. “Yeah, I mean, I don’t really have a choice. Tell Hotch I’ll be there in 30.” He waits for her response. I pick up the towel and dry my own hands. “Okay, see you soon.” He shuts the phone before facing me, an apologetic look in his eye. “I’m so sorry, we have a new case, let me help finish clearing up, and then I have to go.” He moves to his jacket that he placed on a chair earlier, slipping it on. 

I shake my head, “No, go, or do you need a ride to your car?” 

“Thanks, but I’m okay, I only live a couple blocks away, so I walked to the restaurant as well.” 

I let out a small sigh. “Okay, well, let’s find your badge and then I’ll walk you out.” 

Spencer’s badge was quickly located on the coffee table, next to Isaac, who was passed out, most likely from getting tired after all the running. I pick it up before walking the kind doctor to the door. 

As we reach the door, I hand it to him, our fingers brushing against each other's. He smiles. 

“I’ll text you, and maybe when I get back, we can go to dinner? A proper one?” His question brings a smirk to my face. 

“Like a date?” He nods, a blush forming on his perfect cheekbones. “I’d like that.” I open the door for him. He leaves, rushing off to make it back to work. 

I shut the door behind him, content with the night that the three of us shared together. 

My phone pings. 

_1 New Message – ‘_ _Dr._ _Spencer’_

_“Thank you for a great evening, Picasso.”_


	6. Chapter 6

Waking up early wasn’t an issue this morning, like it is normally is. It’s almost as if my body knew that I had a ton of stuff to do, and it did me a huge favour, as I had forgotten to set an alarm when I went to bed last night.

I’d already spoken to my neighbour shortly after Spencer had left, asking if she would be able to watch Isaac and make sure he does his homework while I leave to check on my studio and then go to work at the radio station.

I jump into the shower because I knew my hair  _ needed _ to be washed today, otherwise it would feel and look disgusting by the end of the day, and I didn’t want the guys at the station to judge me.

My hair gets wrapped into a towel while I go to my wardrobe, throwing on a pair of jeans and a comfortable knitted jumper. I move back to my bathroom to brush my teeth, throwing my towels back on the rack.

I pull my hair from the towel, scrunching to remove the excess water before combing through my hair letting it airdry. I go to Isaac’s room, knocking on the door loudly. “ Iz , are you awake yet?” All I hear is a loud groan coming from the room. “Breakfast in 10. Get up!” I hear a slight movement, taking that as a sign that the boy was now awake.

When I reach the kitchen, I’m immediately thankful that I cleared up last night, with the help of Spencer, because it’s a lot tidier than it would normally be. I smile at the thought of last night, it was fun and everything felt natural, it made me realise that I definitely wanted to spend more time with him.

I open the freezer, taking out some toaster waffles, placing two in the toaster before grabbing some syrup and icing sugar out of the cupboard, as well as strawberries from the fridge. I grab a knife and cutting board, slicing the red fruit into quarters.

Isaac enters the kitchen, fully dressed, just as the waffles pop out of the toaster.

“Can you grab some plates?” I ask, focusing on chopping more strawberries. He moves quietly, grabbing plates for both of us. Once I’ve placed the waffles on his plate, he begins to decorate it with the syrup and sugar. “If you’re having all that on it, then you can have some fruit too, that’s natural sugar.” He smiles, still not saying anything, but grabbing a few pieces. He moves to the table, slowly cutting his waffles, waiting for mine to be done before actually beginning to eat.

When we both have our breakfast at the  table, Isaac decides to break the silence.

“Faye...” I look up at him in a quizzical manner. “... So, what’s going on with Spencer?”

I laugh. “You are too young to be asking me that. But, he’s my new friend, is that okay with you?”

“I mean, I don’t know why I wouldn’t be. He’s cool, and he protected you from me shooting you. So, yeah, if you wanted him to come around a bit more, that would be okay with me, but he has to introduce me to his cool FBI friends.” His smile grows as he speaks, obviously realising that Spencer is going to know a lot of FBI agents.

“That’s only if he wants to, you’ve got to remember that,  Iz .” He looks at me with a  raised eyebrow.

“He looks at you how Dad used to look at Mom, he’s  gonna want to.” I’m shocked at his  words; I didn’t even think he would remember that.

“I don’t know what you mean.” A smile breaks onto my face, my eyes diverting down to the food  in front of me. Did he really look at me like that? 

“I mean, I’m twelve, so I don’t really know why you’re paying to attention to me.” He has a smirk on his face.

“Ha  ha , funny. I’ve literally only known him for like a day, so, sure I’m going to try and get to know him more. He could be a good friend for the both of us.” He seemed to like my answer, he enjoyed the idea of having a cool FBI friend.

When we finished eating, I rinse off our plates and leave them, as well as the cutlery, in the sink to wash later. I check my watch for the time, it reads 10:14am.

“Come on kid, are you ready to go to Mrs. Bennet’s? I got to go to the studio before I head to work, but I won’t have time to drop you back between the two.”

He nods, moving upstairs to grab everything he needed. He comes back within a few minutes with his backpack and a jacket in hand.

“You got your keys? Just in case you’ve forgotten anything.” He nods again, patting his pockets as he begins putting his shoes on.

We move out the door together before he rushes off to our lovely neighbour, while I lock the front door.

By the time I make it onto her porch, Isaac’s already knocked and she’s standing in the doorway, waiting for me.

“Thank you again, Mrs. Bennet. I don’t have a lot of shifts this week, but thank you for agreeing to watch him while I’m at work.”

She’s such a lovely woman. “Oh dear, it’s no issue, you know I love the company, and I noticed that you had some yourself last night. You’ll be telling me about him later.” She gives me a sly wink.

I let out an awkward laugh as my face flushes pink. “I’ll only tell you about him if you come over for dinner tonight. And it’ll be homemade and everything.” Isaac starts moaning about my cooking, I don’t have the best track record with not burning food.

“How about, we cook together so that the boy doesn’t get food  poisoning .” I laugh and agree with her.

I thank her again, pulling Isaac a quick hug before I jump into my car and drive to my studio.

When I arrive, I notice that sat on my desk is the small sketchbook that I had with me the previous morning. I open it to a bookmarked page and see my small sketch of Spencer. I never finished it, maybe I’ll get him to pose for it when he gets home. I feel like it’s crazy of me to say, but I want to speak to him, I want to ask him about his day, but obviously I’ve known him for a day, and he’s working. I pull out my phone seeing his message from last night. I never replied to it... so, it’s kind of my turn to start a conversation.

_ To: ‘ _ _ Dr. _ _ Spencer’ _

_ “Hey, thanks for last night, I had fun.” _

No. That sounds like we hooked up. I redraft the message.

_ “Hey, Isaac want to meet all your tough FBI buddies. Hope the case is going well. x” _

Still not the best, it makes me seen like I didn’t enjoy his company.

_ “Hey, thanks for joining us for dinner. Isaac now wants to meet all your FBI friends. Hope the case is going well. x" _ Before I could change my mind any more about the message, I hit send.

That seemed like a good message to send.

I set my phone down on my desk and check my emails for any new orders, as well as finishing up the ones from yesterday. There were a couple new ones, so I packaged them and sent all my orders from this week a dispatch notification, letting them know I was sending their items out today. Thankfully I made a list of all the orders, noting down ones that had already been sent out, and which ones needed to be sent. This takes me a good hour, because I had missed packing one or two.

The last thing I had to do before work was go to the post office and send out all the items. This took a little bit of time because I had around thirty packages going to all over the country.

I checked my phone when I got to radio station. No messages except Mrs. Bennet telling me that Isaac was being great and that he was helping her learn how to work some of the newer technology that she had in her house.

I was hoping that Spencer would’ve replied, he’s not often slow at messaging. But I couldn’t be upset that he’s busy at work, nor do I think I’m entitled to be upset about it, I don’t even know him.

My shift at the station consisted of coffee runs, pushing buttons and thoughts of Spencer’s eyes. Was Isaac right about how he looked at me? Surely not, we don’t even know each other that well.

God, I sound ridiculous.

By the time I got home, Mrs Bennet and Isaac were already in our house with an old Billie Holiday album on the record player. “I’ll Be Seeing You” is playing softly through the speakers. I hear laughing coming from the kitchen as I quietly walk towards it, not wanting to disturb anyone.

I peak my head round the door frame and see Mrs Bennet twirl Isaac under her arm while she stirs something in a saucepan with the other hand. I couldn’t see what she was making but it smelt amazing.

“I thought we were cooking together Mrs Bennet.” Their heads turn in sync, smiling at me.

Isaac hugs me first and then Mrs Bennet. “Oh hush, you’ve been working your butt off all day. I wanted to help you out.”

“Thank you, I really appreciate it.” I try to begin helping with food but she puts her hands on my shoulders and moves me towards Isaac who was still having fun with the soothing music.

The food that Mrs Bennet made was incredible, as always, and we talked and laughed all while eating it. We moved onto ice cream that I had in the freezer before Isaac reminded us about Mrs Bennet wanting details about Spencer.

“Oh yes, I saw a nice young man going home with you two yesterday, I just wanted to see what he was like.”

“He’s... different to a lot of people I’ve met recently.” I reply, trying to keep some details to myself.

She smiles. “How so?”

“Well, he has a PhD, one definitely but I wouldn’t be surprised if he had more and he works for the FBI. He actually spent time with both me  _ and _ Isaac.”

“He protected her from my bullets.” Mrs. Bennet’s smile drops into a horrified look.

“They were foam nerf one, don’t worry.” I but in. Her smile returns.

“Well, is he nice to look at?” My face glows red.

“Mrs Bennet, now if not the time to-” She stops me by raising her hand.

She turns to my brother. “Sweetie, you finished your homework, right?” He nods. “Well, why don’t you go and take your ice cream upstairs and play of that video game of yours?” He looks towards me.

“Your controller is on my dresser.” He rushes upstairs with his bowl and spoon.

I get up, going to my little stash of wine. “Red or white?”

“Ooh, gossip is definitely a white wine moment.”

Once we’d both consumed two glasses each, and Mrs Bennet had squeezed every bit of information about Spencer that she could out of me, we called it a night and she went home to bed.

The clock in the living room says 9:56pm. Wow, we were talking for a while.

I check my phone one last time to see if Spencer responded, but again, nothing. I rest it on charge on my bedside cabinet before changing into an oversized t-shirt. As I move back towards my bed my phone begins to vibrate. The name reads ‘ Dr. Spencer’. I answer quickly.

“Hi.”

_ “Hi Picasso. I hope I didn’t wake you up. I’m sorry, if I did” _

“No, Spence, you didn’t, you’re fine.” Theres a small pause between us, both unsure of what to say next. “I didn’t think that I was going to hear from you today.”

_ “I’m sorry, it was a tough case, and if I responded to your text I would’ve been distracted. So, instead, I thought I would call. I don’t really like texting, I’m not the best at reading social cues through texts. I hope that’s okay with you.” _

“Yeah, I’m not a huge fan of texting either, although it’s quicker, the tone gets lost in translation.”

Again, there’s a comfortable silence. I can hear his slow breaths.

“Did you want to talk about work?” I ask.

_ “I-erm. Is it okay if I don’t?” _ His tone is tense all of a second.

“Yeah, of course. What do you want to talk about then?”

_ “Will you tell me about your day?” _ He’s calm, but I could tell he needed to be distracted.

I go through my day, leaving out the many small moments where I hoped that he would text back.

“And my boss actually said ‘Oh fucking hell’ on live air. We had to make sure he knew he was on for the rest of the day, and send out an apology message for his language, which is recorded by me unfortunately. It’s awful, I hate the way I sound on tapes.” He kept jumping in every so often, just for some clarification on who the person was, or what I actually did for work, but other than that he sat and he listened.

_ “I’m sure you sounded great, if you sounded anything like you do right now, then it’s nothing less than perfect.” _

“I knew you were secretly a massive flirt  Dr. Reid.”

_ “Oh, I-erm, sorry.” _

“You need to stop getting so nervous around me Spencer, I’ve already said yes to that date.”

He lets out a nervous laugh.  _ “Yeah, I guess so. And you said yes to me but turned Morgan down.” _

“Please can we stop bringing him up, it’s going to be so awkward if I see him again.” I laugh at him.

_ “Why is that?” _

“You didn’t tell him?” Any other guy I know would rub it in the others face.

_ “Well, I only really give my team little details, I like to keep my private life mainly private.” _ I hear a knock on his door.  _ “One second.” _ I’m not too sure where he directed that, me or the person at the door. I hear a small  creak; I’m assuming, as he opens the door.

Over the phone I hear two voices, one obviously being Spencer, and a second one, somewhat familiar. After a minute or two, I hear Spencer shut his door.

_ “I’m sorry, Morgan was asking me to keep it down, thin walls apparently. _ ” I giggle.  Ew , since when did I become the type of person to giggle.

“I guess it is a little late.” The digital clock on my phone reads 11:49pm.

_ “Oh, are you tired? I can leave you alone.” _ He starts a small ramble.  _ “I feel bad now. The average US adult only sleeps about five hours and thirty minutes, but it’s recommended to sleep between seven and nine hours. And by me distracting you, and most likely pulling you away from a schedule-” _

“Spencer, I hate to stop your little ramble, because it is so cute, but I’m fine. I have nothing to do tomorrow except keep an eye on Iz, so I can sleep in a little tomorrow if that makes you feel better.” Theres silence apart from the sound of his calming breaths. “I like speaking to you, Spence.”

_ “I like speaking to you as well.” _

“Good, you’re stuck with me now.”


	7. Chapter 7

I lift my head up slightly to get a glance at the time on my alarm clock. "Oh god, is it really 2am? Fuck, you have to get up for work, Spencer!" I felt bad because I could slowly hear the tiredness grow in the way he spoke, but whenever I would suggest going to sleep, he would say _"I'm not even tired, Picasso."_

_"I know. I have to be up in like four hours."_

"Spence, what the hell! Go to sleep, how are you going to catch bad guys with no rest?"

_"It's fine, Picasso. Even if I went to sleep now, it would be more than I normally get."_

"I do not understand how you can survive." A teasing tone present in my voice.

Throughout the night, his already soothing voice gained a small rasp to it, which was an indication that he was, if fact tired.

_"It's called 'having a caffeine addiction', which still probably isn't the best idea. The team always accuses me of drinking all the coffee."_

I feel my eyes begin to droop as he speaks, because of pure exhaustion, my body moving into a more comfortable position.

_"Hey, go to sleep, I can hear you getting comfortable."_ He's so caring, I can hear it in his voice.

"In a minute, I just want to know one more thing first." My eyes begin to droop again, before softly closing with my phone resting against my hear.

_"What's that?"_ He's obviously curious with my coming question.

"Why do you call me Picasso?" It comes out as a slight mumble. A short second after I finish asking the question, my consciousness fades away to a dreamless sleep.

Waking up in the morning was odd as I had my phone stuck to my skin after being squashed between my face and my pillow, I must've turned a lot.

I look at the screen which told me it was 10:07am, as well as having a text message notification shown at the top.

_2 New Messages - 'Dr. Spencer'_

_"Sleep well, Picasso."_

_"Message me when you eventually wake up."_

How is it possible that he makes me feel so giddy?

Getting changed into a pair of blue jeans and a graphic print t-shirt, I move downstairs and find Isaac already in the living room, in his pyjamas with a plate of toast on his lap, sitting in front of the television. He turns his head towards me as he hears my footsteps coming down the stairs. I stand behind the couch and ruffle his hair, placing a kiss on the top of his head.

"Morning kid." He rushes to fix his hair back into place, a frown now presents itself on his face.

He gestures towards the plate on him lap, now only occupied by a small amount of crust and crumbs. "I made you toast, but you were still asleep, so I ate it." I laugh at him as I enter the kitchen.

I raise my voice slightly so that he can still hear me from where he sits, "It's the thought that count, bud. Thank you anyway." I grab the bread loaf, grabbing myself two slices and placing them into the toaster. I take out a plate for myself, as well as a knife and the jar of Nutella that I kept hidden from Isaac because I know that he would finish the whole tub in one sitting.

The toast pops up and I coat it in a thin layer of the sweet spread. I sit down next to Isaac on the other end of the couch, where he glares at me.

"I will find where you hide it one day." He tries to hold my eye contact in a way to be intimidating, but I just laugh at him, and his scowl turns into a frown.

"The day you find it is the day that pigs learn to fly." He rolls his eyes at me, obviously irritated at me. "You want to hang out at the studio with me today? Or do you want to hang out here?"

His eyes light up, he loves the studio because of the connection it has to our father, the three of us used to spend time together there when Mom needed a break from mischief. He taught us how to sketch and paint, and showed us how we could use it to express how we were feeling.

"Can we go to the studio?" A grin coats his face. I nod and he rushes upstairs to change into some clothes that are suitable for painting. While he's changing, I remember Spencer's text that asked me to message when I woke up.

_To: 'Dr. Spencer'_

_"I'm alive and well, haha. I hope I didn't cause you to sleep in. x"_

Although I remember asking Spencer why he always called me Picasso, I must've fallen asleep before he gave me his answer, because I have no idea what it is. I feel rude asking again, it will make him think that I wasn't paying attention to what he said.

Isaac makes his way back downstairs, his backpack hanging off of one shoulder. His pants are old and worn out a little, covered in small specks of acrylic from him being a messy painter, his t-shirt being in a similar condition.

"I've got a spare pair of pants in my backpack." He tells me, obviously not wanting to get paint on the seat of my car, which he did once before and felt extremely guilty for.

I look in his direction, "What about your school work for today?" He nods, responding that he also had that with him, so that he could get some done and not be behind once his suspension is lifted.

We put our shoes on in silence, moving to the door once we're done and locking it behind us.

The weather was grey and dull, like it usually was in Quantico. The clouds, although not dark in colour, were producing a small drizzle of rain, dampening our hair and shoulders. The studio was, thankfully, not too far away, meaning the drive was short, but it was far enough away that we didn't have to walk in the rain.

On arrival, I unlock the door for my brother to go ahead, while I take any needed equipment from my car. By the time I make my way up the stairs, Isaac has already gotten himself comfortable at my desk, with my notebook opened in front of him. I place my hands on his shoulders.

"What are you looking at, Iz?" My eyes fall to the open page. The sketch of Spencer once again fills my eyes.

He turns his head towards me. "Is that meant to be Spencer?" His eyes hold some sort of smug look.

"Yes, that's Spencer, just before he spoke to me at the coffee shop the other day." He moves back to face the image.

"It's not finished."

I crouch behind him, moving my head so that it rests on his left shoulder. "Yeah, I know, I haven't really seen him much."

He shuts the book carefully. I move off of his shoulder, standing straight again, as he turns the chair to face the whole room. His eyes are drawn to the old canvas in the part of the room that used to be our fathers. I can only assume that it upsets him slightly, seeing Dad's unfinished work. Isaac hasn't really come here often, but when he does, he likes to take a moment to remember what a good man he was, how generous and caring he was.

I take his hand, causing his eyes to move briefly down, before back up to the unoccupied work space. He squeezes my hand for comfort. I squeeze back.

"How about we get you set up with your own station, Iz? Then we all have a bit of the studio." He nods sadly, a smile forced on his face. "We can get another desk?" He seems to snap out of his dazed state slightly, but not completely.

"Yeah, I think that could be cool, I guess." It takes a second for him to process what I told him, and then he gets excited about the situation. "Wait, really? So, I could do my own stuff in here, and not get in trouble at school for drawing in all my books."

My mouth drops, "You're drawing in your school books?" Why hasn't he mentioned this before?

His face when he realises that he dropped himself in, it was hilarious. My face softens at his worried look.

"It's fine, you're starting a fresh when you're back at school, okay? That means no fights, no doodling in school book." I move towards a drawer in my desk, pulling out an old looking leather book. "Now, I'm trusting you to be careful with this." I hand him the book.

He flicked through it quickly, seeing that some pages were already filled. I know he recognises the images by the way he looks up at me with tears threatening to fall from his eyes. "It was Dad's?" I nod, turning to the first page, which was a full page of writing, written for him. A small drop falls down his cheek. I crouch down so that I could be more at his eye level.

"He made me promise not to give it to you until you were ready for it. And I think that you're ready for it now, Iz." He wraps his arms around me, squeezing tightly.

In a small whisper, I hear, "Thank you, Faye."

I pull away briefly, "You have to promise me that you're not going to get it out in class unless you have a free period, okay?"

He nods while wiping his eyes, composing himself.

He's such a sweet kid, I'm lucky to have him.

He moves to get comfortable in a little armchair that Dad had kept in his section. It was maroon in colour with a suede texture. I remember it being extremely comfortable, but I don't remember the last time I actually sat in it. When I was little, and my dad was late painting, I would often fall asleep in that chair. It was a good comfort to still have it here.

Throughout the afternoon, I design a few new watercolour images, noting down ones that I think would sell well.

As I begin to wash my brushes, my phone starts to ring at my desk.

"Iz, can you get that for me?" He gets up from his seat and picks up the phone.

"Hello?... Oh cool..." There were a few pauses.

"Isaac, who is it?" He turns away from me.

"Yeah, we're at our studio, do you want the address?"

I'm shocked. "Isaac, who the fuck are you giving our address to?" I dry my hands off quickly on a rag, leaving the wet brushes in the sink while I take the phone out of his hand.

"Hello?" I'm partially shocked at who responds on the other end.

_"Hi."_ Spencer.

"Oh, hey." He laughs nervously on the other end of the line.

_"I was, erm, calling to say that we finished up the case a little bit early, and, uh, I was wondering if you would want to spend some time together? I land in an hour roughly."_ I copy his nervousness.

"I mean, Isaac's already accepted, but yes, I would like to."

_"Okay, will you send me the address that Isaac was speaking about and I can send you a message when I'm on my way? If that's okay?"_

"Yeah, yes, okay. I guess I'll-erm see you in a bit." We say goodbye to each other and I hang up the phone. Immediately after I turn to my little brother who wore a smug grin on his face.

"Isacc? What the hell?" He laughs lightly.

"He said that he was finished at work and was on his way back, but wanted to know if we wanted to hang out." Well, no shit, I realise that now.

I realise that I'm acting ridiculous and send Spencer the studios address. I don't know what it is about him that makes me so nervous, but I really need to get over it, seeing as I'm dressed like a complete mess.

I begin to organise my work that I hadn't put away yet, leaving the still damn watercolours on the top on the desk. I dried off the brushed that I was washing before, placing them back into the pot that sat on the windowsill.

While waiting for Spencer, Isaac talks me through his drawings. They're in bold black ink and look almost like a comic strip with the way he's positioned them after one another. I guess the art gene was good in both of us because his work was insanely good. I was proud of him. 


	8. Chapter 8

Spencer arrived around 6pm, entering the room announcing that his boss had given him and his team the rest of the day off, as well as tomorrow, for their hard work and the severity of the case. To be honest, he looks absolutely exhausted, it surprises me that he’s even here, rather than at home sleeping.

When he walks through the door, he takes a second to admire the room, dark eyes darting around, he’s obviously intrigued by the room.

I choose to break the silence, “So, I take it you got the bad guy?” His head turns to mine for a second, and then towards Isaac.

“Yeah, we-erm, caught and arrested him just in time to save another victim.” His eyes stayed on my brother. Something was obviously up, I hadn’t known Spencer long but his body language turned extremely stiff once his eyes caught sight of him.

I lower my voice ever so slightly, just in case Isaac could hear, “It involved kids, didn’t it?” He nodded slowly, still not meeting my eye. I reached down slowly and take his hand in mine, interlacing our fingers. His eyes rip themselves away from my brother, who was still peacefully drawing from Dad’s chair, now glued to our intertwined limbs. Without even looking at his face, I can tell that his normally pale cheeks are flushed with pink. I only smile at his reaction.

He squeezes gently, finally moving his head to look at mine. Our eyes meet, a sad smile still on his face, but dropping after a few seconds.

I tug gently on his hand as I move further into the studio, “Come on, you can cheer yourself up by showing me your drawing skills.” His face, although surprised, seemed welcome with my suggestion. With a job like his, I doubt he would have a good creative outlet for his feelings and emotions, or even someone he was close with to talk to, at least not like that.

Isaac waves at Spencer briefly as he watches me pull him towards my workspace. I motion for Spencer to take the chair that sits at my desk as I perch on the corner of the surface. He uses the wheels of the chair to pull himself into the desk, his hand rests just next to my knee, only a few millimetres from touching. My eyes are drawn to his hands, they’re large in size and rather veiny.

He looks up to me with his innocent eyes, “So, what do I draw?” A smile pulls on my lips as I reach across him, my chest moving slighting towards his face, getting him some blank watercolour paper. His perfect cheekbones glow red, and only then I realise that I had basically pushed my  cleavage into his face.

“Whatever you feel like drawing,” I respond, choosing to ignore my non-intentional actions from a minute ago, to play it off like nothing happened. He pulls his lips into a thin line before leaning over the paper, and beginning small sketches. I leave him in the spot, grabbing my sketchbook before moving away.

I sit on the floor to his left; he seems like a giant from the angle I’m sitting in. I attempt to concentrate on my own work, but my eyes gradually move from my sketch to Spencer’s sharp jaw. I knew I wouldn’t be able to focus when there was something a lot more interesting to draw. I turn to a new page, pencil still in hand. I work on a light outline of his facial structure before attempting more of the details that sit on his skin. The way he has slight frown lines appear on his forehead when he’s focusing, how his eyes scrunch up ever so slightly.

A small piece of hair falls from behind his ears which he ignores for a few minutes while he carries on with his mystery drawings.

Isaac’s curiosity gets the better of him, meaning that he crept over quietly towards Spencer, peeking over his right shoulder.

“What are they?” Isaac’s words seem to make Spencer jump ever so slightly, but Spencer encourages his to come closer. “They’re so weird but cool.” Isaac then waves his hand to get me to stand up and look at Spencer’s work. On the page sits three abstract figures.

Spencer looks up at me from where he sits, “They’re all different ways that I see myself.” His face copies the smile that sits on my face.

“Okay, you need to explain the cactus with cowboy boots.” A small laugh follows my words.

He looks back down at his sketch, then looking back up, smile still on his face. “Well, if I wasn't an FBI agent, I think that I would like to be a cowboy.”

“A cowboy?” Isaac asks, almost confused, as Spencer didn’t really look the type.

“Yeah, Id-um have some horses, a few cattle, be surrounded by nature.” He nodded his head slightly.

“And what would you do with cattle?” I ask. He lets out a small a laugh.

“Um- look at them, pet them, I-er I hadn't really thought about that, but I’ll-er figure it out.” I reach out, resting my hand on his shoulder, which one of his hands move to meet it, sitting on top.

Isaac moves away, back to his previous spot, his attention span short.

Spencer moves his brown eyes back towards my face. “How about we-um go for that dinner tonight?” His face looks hopeful, but the emotion drops when I don’t share the same expression. “We don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

“No, no, Spencer I want to, I just don’t have anyone to watch Isaac. I can’t really leave him alone. And it’s a bit late notice for my neighbour.” Confusion now fills his face.

“I mean, I know I didn’t meet them the other night, but what about your parents?” I forgot that he didn’t know about them.

“They’re not... around. My-er Dad passed a few years back, and Mom took off shortly after that, it’s just been me and Isaac since then.” I move my hand off of Spencer’s shoulder, moving so I could rest against the desk, body facing him but my head to the floor, with my hands in my lap.

“I’m sorry. My dad left when I was young, so I kind of understand.”

“I just sometimes get the feeling that Isaac is never going to have the chance to actually be a kid, he’s already way too mature for his age.” I look over at my brother, who’s tongue is currently sticking out of his mouth while still working in what used to be Dad’s book. “That part of the studio used to be our father’s.”

“The painting, it was his last one wasn’t it.” I nod slowly, refusing to meet Spencer's eye. Surprisingly, he leans towards me, taking my hand in his, giving it a small squeeze. He’s not normally the one to start physical contact.

“Do you mind hanging out with him for a second? I just need to make a quick phone call.” He nods, releasing my hand. I could feel his eyes on me as I walk out the front door to have a quick conversation with Mrs. Bennet.

After returning, I see Isaac and Spencer standing in front of Dad’s painting, both silent, but admiring it.

“ Iz ,” He turns to face me, “You want to hang out with Mrs. Bennet tonight? She’s making your favourite cookies.”

“Yeah, but why, where are you going to be?” He only slightly confused, but was suspicious of Spencer, quickly glancing in his direction.

“Spencer wants to take me to dinner. You don’t mind, don’t you?” He shakes his head, smiling at me. As I speak, I can feel Spencer’s emotions grow from disappointed to excited.

We all pack up in the studio, piling into my car, as Spencer had been dropped off here in the first place. He gives me directions to his apartment, wanting to shower and change before we left for dinner. I tell him that I can drive to the restaurant, which he agrees to because he apparently isn’t a fan of driving.

Once Isaac and I get home, he heads straight over to Mrs. Bennet’s home, who waves at me from her doorstep, “You have a good night dear! Don’t be home too early!” I laugh at her remarks.

I rush to shower, shaving my legs quickly because of my planned outfit choice, but not bothering to wash my hair as it takes way too long to dry it, I apply a light amount of makeup; a small amount of concealer, a nude eyeshadow followed by some mascara.

I change into a black skirt and dark green sweater combination, trying to make my clothes seem a little more date appropriate. I finish with a pair of heeled ankle boots and briefly take a look at myself in the mirror. I flatten my hair quickly, running my fingers through it before grabbing a bag with my keys and heading out the door.

I get back to Spencer’s apartment quickly, parking out the front. I don’t really know if I’m meant to just wait for him so I decide to send him a quick text.

_ To:  _ _ Dr. _ _ Spencer _

_ “I’m outside, do you want me to just wait here? x” _

After a few minutes I receive a response.

_ From:  _ _ Dr. _ _ Spencer _

_ “I’m going to be a couple more minutes, buzz 23 and I’ll let you in. X" _

I smile and make my way out of my car, locking it with the key, and moving into the building. It’s older in style, meaning no elevator, but thankfully his apartment is only on the second floor.

His apartment is just at the top of the staircase and I give the door a gentle knock. From within I hear a quiet, “It’s open.” I turn the slightly rusted door knob.

I’m slightly taken back as I enter his apartment. The walls are a sort of teal green colour, with the walls covered floor to ceiling with bookshelves, every single one overflowing. On my left there is a small part of wall that isn’t covered, it displays two BA diploma’s and 3 PhD’s. He’s a lot smarter than I thought he was. I’m in awe of some of the books that sit on his shelves.

He had a lot of different Arthur Conan Doyle books, including the complete Sherlock Holmes series and an old looking copy of ‘The Narrative of John Smith’, this being a book that I had never even heard of before. As I run my finger across the spine of the  book, I hear footsteps behind me, and then his voice.

“I see you’ve found my favourites.” I turn to face him; he’s wearing black slacks with a dark grey blazer on with a matching shirt, a red tie around his neck tucked into a cardigan. He makes the whole nerdy style very chic.

My eyes meet his, a grin rises on both of our faces. He walks towards me, taking in my outfit.

“You look, -wow.” My cheeks glow red.

“You really haven’t seen me dressed up, Spence.”

He gives me a short tour around his apartment, that being because it was a single bedroom place. To be honest, I loved it. It was cosy, and it was completely him, and I adored it.

He showed me his own record player, one that looked to be even older than mine, he had mainly classical music records.

“I’ve never really listened to classical music.” He stands slightly behind me, peering over my shoulder while I look over his limited collection.

“Pick one, we have time before we go to dinner.” I smile up at him, my hand choosing a random one. “Piano Sonata No. 14, the C-Sharp Minor version is definitely a favourite. Good choice.”

As the music begins to  play, I take his hand and pull him towards me ever so slightly.

“Dance with me?” A hopeful smile fills my face.

“I-er I don’t really know how.” He meets my eyes with his, nervousness present on his face.

I grin, “Do you trust me?” He nods, I move his hands to my waist, placing mine around the back of his neck. He stiffens as I begin to lead us in a small sway from side to side.

“Okay, relax Spence, now step with me.” He quickly gets it, and although his rhythm isn't the best, I enjoy being in his arms.

As the song ends, our eyes connect, and in that moment, there was nothing else in the world except us. He leans down towards me silently and the lips that I couldn’t get off of my mind, his lips, were finally on mine.


	9. Chapter 9

Spencer’s hand is gentle on my waist, tightening his grip ever so slightly, with the other moving to the back of my neck. We part slightly, only to take a short breath and look in one another’s eyes for a second before he pulls me back in for another blissful moment. As he moves his hand at my neck to meet the one at my waist, my own arms wrap themselves around the back of his neck. His soft touch tightens again, pulling me flush against his body, meaning I could feel his excitement with the situation grow, emotionally and physically, through something pressing hard into my abdomen. I pull away from the kiss, smirking slightly. 

“I knew you like me Spence, but I didn’t realise this much.” His face shows confusion for a split second before turning a bright red. He moves out of my arms and towards his bedroom, not saying a word. While he’s gone the music stops, and rather than putting on a new piece, I pack it back into its paper sleeve, placing it back in its original spot. 

I take a seat on the couch, unsure of what to do. I check my phone, seeing if I have any texts from Mrs. Bennet, but there wasn’t a single message. I hear Spencer’s door creak open and my head turns to follow the sound. He moves towards me, but sits on the other end of the couch. He looks embarrassed. 

“I’m er- I'm sorry.” He barely meets my eye. I scoot closer to him, taking his hand in my own. 

I smile at him. “Hey, I don’t know why you’re apologising, I shouldn’t have made a joke.” He pulls his lips into a thin line; his eyes meet mine for a second, trailing down to our entwined fingers, squeezing slightly. 

He meet’s my eye once again, “It’s just... been a while, I guess, since I’ve done... anything with a girl.” I lift my head slightly, letting my lips softly press against his. I try to give him an encouraging look. 

“Spencer, I like you, we can go at any pace that you’re comfortable with.” His eyes look grateful at my comment. 

“I like you too, Picasso.” My minds goes back to our late night conversation, and how I fell asleep before I got the answer to my question. 

“Spence?” He hums, waiting for me to continue. “I feel bad, but... I asked you a question the other night, but I don’t really remember the answer... I think I fell asleep.” 

“Oh, erm, what was it?” 

“I think I asked about why you always call me Picasso? You never call me Faye.” 

He removes his grip from mine and rubs his hands over his face, he has a nervous look on his face, but also with a sense of relief. “God, this is so embarrassing, er,” My eyes tell him to continue, “I didn’t actually know your name, until you just said it. You never told me when we first met and I-I thought it was too late to even ask you. I’m so sorry.” I burst out laughing, my eyes tearing up from his little ramble. 

He looks discouraged with my reaction, I grab his hand once more, with him relaxing with my touch, “Spencer, it’s okay I promise, I probably should’ve thought about it a little bit more. But I do like the nickname, that can stay if you want.” He wraps his thin arms around me, both of us enjoying the silence that comforted us. “What about pizza rather than a fancy restaurant?” He gives my body a small squeeze before standing, pulling on my hands to encourage me to join him. One of his hands move to my lower back, the other resting against my cheek as he leans in and his lips meet mine again, the feeling makes me warm and excited. 

As he pulls away, his hand drops to join the other at my waist as he shakes his head, “No, I’m taking you to an amazing restaurant because that’s what you deserve.” My hand moves to his face, my fingers brushing against his bottom lip to rid the leftover chapstick that has once been on myself. He holds my hand in place, resting a gentle kiss on my fingertips. He was always so gentle, so sweet. “Can we dance again... before we go?” I nod. He turns the record player back on, playing another of his favourite composers. He takes me in his arms, him taking the lead and swaying us to the music. “Did you know that your name is derived from the Middle English language meaning ‘fairy’, ultimately from Latin ‘fata’ meaning ‘the Fates’. It’s also sometimes used as a nickname for ‘faith’.” 

“You know so much about so many things.” 

The song was slightly more upbeat, he held my hand in the air, encouraging me to spin under our arms. He holds me in his grip, my head against his chest. His heart speeds up ever so slightly as my hands move from on top of his shoulder to rest against his chest. 

The song comes to and end and we reluctantly part so that we can leave for dinner. “Do you want me to drive?” Spencer asks. I shake my head. 

We head out the door, Spencer locking it behind us. He grinned as he offered his arm out for me to hold onto. “Such a gentleman, aren’t you?” 

“Oh, I try.” 

Spencer gave me directions as I drove to the restaurant. It was lit brightly, red curtains sitting inside the windows, with ivy climbing the wall around the door outside. The entryway was surrounded by giant bouquets of roses, all varying in size and colour. As we walked through, Spencer slyly took one that was purple in colour from a glass vase, offering it to me. I thank him with a squeeze of the hand and a bright smile. 

“I am _so_ underdressed.” I mutter to myself under my breath. A server approaches, asking if we had a reservation. 

“Yes, under Spencer Reid.” The man nods and escorts up to a beautiful table near the window. Spencer turns to me as we follow him, “You look beautiful.” He pulls the chair out for me as I go to sit down. I place the gifted rose on the table so that it sat between the two of us. 

The server takes our drink order, both of us going for water, as I was driving and Spencer doesn’t really drink often. 

“So, do you know that the colours of roses all have different meanings?” I shake my head no. “Well, red is most commonly known as meaning known as love or passion, white is known as being pure and to show innocence, _and_ I’m probably boring you.” 

“No, no not at all, Spencer. Tell me what purple means.” He takes a sharp breath, his eyes moving towards the tablecloth before meeting mine, his lips move into a tight line. 

“It has a few meanings, enchantment being one of them, and I think that applies to you.” I can feel my face lighting up with a pink blush. 

I lift my arm onto the table so that my head rests on top of my hand, “What else does it mean?” 

He chuckles slightly, “I'll tell you that at some point, but it’s not something for the first date.” 

“Okay.” The waiter returns to take our food order, again offering us some wine to pair with the food, and again the both of us declining. 

After he leaves, we sit in the comfortable silence for a few minutes. Spencer’s phone begins to ring, he looks apologetically at me before taking the call outside. My eyes drift out the window, meeting with a man who stares back at me. I look over at Spencer for a few seconds, he’s smiling at something that the person calling says. I look back, but the man had gone, almost as if he was never there to begin with. 

“Hey, sorry about that,” Spencer stops in his tracks, seeing the nervous expression that rests on my face. “Are you okay?” He asks with a worried look, sitting back in his chair. 

I nod, “Yeah, I just thought I saw something, but there was nothing there. I’m fine.” I force a smile. “So, who was that on the phone?” 

“It was Garica, she’s our technical analysist for our department and she prides herself in knowing every detail about all of us on the team. Derek, who dropped me at your studio earlier, is really close with her, meaning that he told her I was seeing you tonight. She didn’t realise that I was having dinner with you.” 

I chuckle lightly, “She sounds great, a little stalker-y, but who doesn’t need a little bit on that in their life.” 

“She really does help with the cases, with the background information, but she also keeps the mood light, so that we don’t get _too_ into the case. Sure, it’s important to be involved but sometimes it’s all too much.” 

“I completely get it.” The server returns a second time with our food. “So, if Garcia is the techy of your team, what’s your role?” We both begin to eat, having small talk as we go. 

“I won’t bore you with all the specifics, but I have an IQ of 187, as well as an eidetic memory and the ability to read 20,000 words per minute, so they just rely on my knowledge of things.” 

I giggle at his wording, “Knowledge of things is so vague, Spence, give me some more specifics.” 

“Well, you already know about my PhD in Chemistry, I also have one in Engineering and one in Mathematics, I also hold BA’s in Psychology and Sociology.” 

My mouth drops slightly from disbelief, “Oh my god, so, you’re basically a genius.” 

“Yeah, I guess you could call me that.” He shies away slightly, I can only assume that the wording made him uncomfortable.


	10. Chapter 10

A few days after my date with Spencer, I finally had the house to myself, with Isaac’s suspension being lifted and him going back to school. I had to escort him to the Principal's office with his promise to apologise to the boy that he had hurt and also that it wouldn’t happen a second time. I’m just feeling glad to have some alone time.

As I get home from Isaac’s school, I notice that the mailbox on the edge of the driveway is full. I run inside quickly grabbing the key for it.

I try to make the habit of checking the mail daily, but it doesn’t always happen as I get easily distracted with my day-to-day life. I get a strange feeling when I take everything out of the mailbox, a few letters had been torn at the top, almost as if they were opened, but not fully.

“That’s so weird.” I mutter to myself. As I skim through the mail, a piece of my hair falls  in front on my eyes, I tuck it behind my ear to keep it out of the way, but it only falls back.

All of a sudden, I have the feeling on eyes on my back. I try to ignore it, attempting not to panic while returning into the house and locking the door behind me. I toss the mail on the table by the front door being heading upstairs in an attempt to feel secure in the house.

I wish I was able to call Spencer. This was a moment where I felt like I needed his comfort. He was lecturing with one of his team members at a seminar in LA, which had then alerted their attention onto a case in the local area. This all meant that I hadn’t really spoken to him since he left.

I look out my bedroom window, only slightly moving the curtain. I don’t see anyone. I got the same feeling as when I locked eyes with the stranger across the road of the restaurant.

Over the next ten or so minutes, I start to relax, feeling as though the danger, that previously put me on edge, has gone. The safe feeling encouraged me to go back downstairs, to resume my previous task of sorting through the mail. I pick them back up off of the table by the front door and move into the living room.

I flick through the smaller letters, them all seeming to be some type of bill, or takeout menus that I already had at least three copies of. Sitting at the bottom of the pile is a large brown envelope. It has writing on the front in bold black letter reading ‘THE TRUTH’. I am only confused with the letter as it had no address on the front, meaning that whoever sent it knows where I live and hand delivered it.

The temptation got the better of me as I begin tearing the seal open. Sitting inside is a one of those gossip magazines that share information on celebrity drama. On the cover I find multiple images of a blonde actress named ‘Lila’ kissing a boy that I found familiar.  _ Extremely  _ familiar.

They had a page that was dedicated to her ‘latest lover boy’. The full article included more photographs that showed Spencer’s face a lot more clearly, confirming to me that it was definitely him. I felt a surge of anger, and sadness, and  _ betrayal. _ I don’t understand, just the other day he told me how he felt. He kissed me.

The anger surges through my body, causing me to throw the magazine at the wall. A small scrap of paper falls out onto the ground beside the magazine. I reach towards it with a shaking hand, it was my first sketch of Spencer from the coffee shop, now torn down the edge, the lines slightly smudged and with a giant red ‘X’ placed over his chest. I feel myself leading against the wall, sliding down it until I’m sat with my knees to my chest. I felt scared once again, this person had been in my studio, where I take my brother, my only family left. A lonely tear falls from my eyes.

I stay sat in that same position for maybe an hour. My mind feeling blank and confused. I glance at the clock, I've been sat here a lot longer than I originally thought, it tells me that its 1:30pm.

“What the fuck am I doing?” I get up quickly, causing me to feel light headed. I use the wall for support, but stayed standing. I try to push the image of a stranger in my family’s safe space out of my head, but it follows me throughout the few chores I have for the day.

I make my way into Isaac’s bathroom, taking his laundry out of his hamper, and into a basket, doing the same with my own clothes. As I start separating them into piles based on colour, there’s a loud knock on the door. I freeze, unsure on what to do. I hear a voice call out from the outside. “Faye! It’s Spencer, are you home?” His words break me out of my scared state and I storm to the front door.

I open it slightly, standing in the gap. He smiles brightly when he sees me, but I keep my face neutral. “What are you doing here?”

“We, um, just got back from the case in LA and I wanted to surprise you.” I nod, trying not to show any emotion.

“Did you have fun in LA?” His face turned to a look of confusion.

He shakes his head, “Why would I have had fun? The seminar was stressful, and then we had to cut it short because of the case.”

“Well, it looked like you had a lot of fun.”

“What are you talking about? Are you going to let me in?”

I step back, opening the door a little more for Spencer to squeeze through.

“You know, I really don’t understand you, Spencer.”

He removes his bag from across his shoulder, placing it on the floor. “Faye, what’s going on?”

I storm into the next room, grabbing the magazine from it spot on the floor, and back to where I left Spencer in the hall. I toss the magazine onto the counter by the door. “That’s what’s going on, I trust you, and I tell you that I have feelings for you and you go and you’re _ ‘on a case’ _ and then I see this! How do you think that makes me feel?”

His eyes dart to the glossy sheet, confusion still set in his eyes, “This was the case. Lila had a stalker that was obsessive and killing for her, and we had to make it believable to draw the unsub out. But that wasn’t my  choice .”

“Are you kidding me?  So, you just had to shove your tongue down her throat?”

He shakes his head, running his hand through his hair in frustration. “Faye, please, she kissed me and I broke it off and told her I was seeing someone, that it wasn’t okay.” I scoff at his words. “I was going to tell you about what happened, but obviously you found out before I got the chance.” He pauses, “Once the case was over, I told her all about you, about my feelings for you, about your beautiful auburn hair that reminds me of the leaves changing colour in autumn,” He steps closer to me, “Your beautiful eyes,” another step, “Your kind heart,” he stands in front of me, his hand reaching up to my face. I flinch away for a second, but relax quickly into his hand. “And these lips that are all I can think about at the moment.” His thumb traces over the corner of my mouth as he speaks.

It’s almost as if his voice puts me in a trance, one that takes me a second to snap out of. “Stop it. I can’t do this if I don’t trust you.” I step back from his touch.

“How can I get you to trust me?” His eyes show a sense of sadness, and then all of a sudden light up. He rushes back into the hall, grabbing his bag that he has previously discarded, digging around for something. He pulls out his phone, his giant thumbs struggling to hit the tiny buttons quickly. “Morgan gave her my number, not knowing that I was actually seeing you, after we left California, she sent me a text.”

He showed me the screen:

_ From: (310) 7228 821 _

_ “sorry again about what happened, i hope your girlfriend understands. shes lucky to have you. tell her  _ _ im _ _ sorry _

_ lila _ _ :)" _

Okay, maybe he wasn’t lying about what happened.

“Okay, but that doesn’t explain the magazine, why the photos were published.” I’m also not his girlfriend, but I find myself ignoring that small detail.

“By the time we got to the publishers to ask for the photos be removed, the copies had already been printed and sent out, and because we had already caught the unsub, it wasn’t a safety matter for them to be sent out. We had no authority to take them either.”

I sit on the couch, frustrated with the whole situation. He sits next to me, placing his large hand on my knee.

“I really like you, Faye. I promise that I was going tell you what happened.” I lift my head to meet his eyes. I can see the truth burning in his dark eyes.

I lift my hand to rest against his neck, “I like you too, and I’m sorry for saying that I didn’t trust you. I’ve just... I’ve not had the best experience with relationships in the past, and my head immediately went to the worst possible scenario.” He leans in, pressing a chaste kiss to my lips, and pulling away again.

“I’m sorry I made you feel like that, and I don’t know what happened, but know I never want to act like that. I care about you, Picasso.” I know. I drop my hand slightly from the side of his neck to hold on to the collar of his shirt, lightly tugging to bring him closer.

I place my lips back on his, loving the feeling. His arms wrap about my lower back, not using a lot of pressure, but holding me in his arms. He deepens the kiss, pulling me closer. The angle feels slightly awkward, so I make the decision of lifting one of my legs, placing it on the other side on his. He pulls back for a second, a nervous look in his eye. I smile for encouragement and lean in again.

His hands stayed stiff at my waist, I placed mine on top of his and pushed them down slightly so they sat comfortably at my hips. He started to gain a small amount of confidence, his left hand placing itself on my cheek.

All of a sudden, I hear the front door unlock. I quickly remove myself from Spencer’s lap, just as Isaac walks into the living room. I grab a pillow that has fallen on the floor at some point, placing it on top of Spencer’s lap that had a noticeable bulge.

“Hey  Iz , how was school?” I smile, trying to play off as if nothing was going on previously.

Isaac places himself on the small chair, “Oh, hi Spencer, I didn’t know you were coming over.”

Spencer nods, “My team finished with work, so I came over as a surprise.”

I interrupt before their conversation can  continue , because if it does, it will never end, “How was school?”

My little brother smiles, “Well let's just say no one's messing with me anymore. But no fights, and no detentions.”

“That’s what I like to hear, kid.”

Spencer’s phone begins to buzz, he excuses himself to answer it.

“ Principal Davis called me into her office just before lunch.”

“What did she say?” I don’t know why she would do that when we all met together.

“She said that she understands if I don’t have enough  _ ‘support’ _ at home, and that it’s understandable that I would lash out because Mom and Dad aren’t here. But that it can’t happen again.”

A shocked look covers my face as my mouth slightly drops. “She said what?”

He nods, “And that she thinks I should start seeing the School Counsellor for my  _ ‘anger problems’ _ and to have an adult male figure in my life.”

“What did you say to her?”

“I told her that my sister is the best person to be looking after me, and that I have cool FBI friends to help me out. She  kinda shut up after that and let me go to lunch early.”

I get up and sit on the arm of the chair, wrapping my arms around him, squeezing slightly, but not too hard.

Spencer came back, sitting in his original seat. I smile over at him as he looks at our small interaction with a slightly worried look in his eye. His face softens once he realises it a good moment.

“Picasso,” I connect my eyes with his, “It was Garcia on the phone saying that the team were going out for drinks tonight, asking me to join-.”

I interrupt him, “Oh, you don’t have to ask me, go!”

He shakes his head with a nervous smile, “No,  no , I’m asking if you’ll come with me?”

Isaac nods, “Faye, you never go out anymore, I can go and see Mrs. Bennet, I know she loves having me around.”

I run my hand over the top of Isaac’s head, “I don’t know, we don’t want to bug Mrs. Bennet.”

“Faye, come on, you need some fun.” Isaac looks up at me with excited eyes.

I roll my eyes at him, standing up to find my phone, “I guess there’s no harm in asking.”


	11. Chapter 11

Mrs. Bennet was kind enough to agree to have Isaac stay for the night, promising me that he would get his homework completed, that he wouldn’t be allowed any of his video games before that, and that he would be ready on time for the bus that would come in the morning. I definitely feel grateful to have her support.

Spencer leaves shortly after Isaac goes to Mrs. Bennet’s to get changed, telling me that he would be most likely changing into black slacks with a shirt and blazer. Wanting to match his dress code, I choose a burgundy dress that had a V-shape neckline, but not one that exposed too much skin. It hugged my body in a flattering manner, I definitely felt hot when wearing it.

After changing into my dress, I work on some bolder makeup than usual. A subtle nude smoky eye was applied to my eyelids, while I went for a bolder dark red lipstick, in an attempt to match the colour of my dress.

Spencer shows up again around 7:30, just as I was adding some finishing fastening the small buckle that was attached to my shoes. I open the front door, but Spencer doesn’t take a step inside, he just stands on the porch with a stunned look in his eye. The first movement he does is running his hand over his face, “Wow. Y-You look amazing.”

I smile brightly, “Thank you, Spencer.” He moves in to place a quick kiss on my lips, but I turn my head slightly so he gets my cheek. He looks confused for a moment, “I didn’t want to cover you in my lipstick.” He places a hand on my cheek keeping my head in place as now successfully places a kiss on my lips. I laugh quietly as I wipe the red tint off of his lips.

“I-er, I got us a taxi, if you’re ready?” I nod, stepping back in quickly to pick up my small purse and keys off of the counter. I lock the front door behind us, taking his arm that he offered out to me.

It was only a short drive to the bar where we would be meeting all of his colleagues. I begin to feel nervous, my leg bouncing up and down. Spencer places one of his large hands on the top of my knee, the gesture calming me slightly.

Once arriving, Spencer gets out of the car first, holding his hand out to me help me and be a gentleman. He pulls out his phone to check where we would be meeting his friends, while simultaneously wrapping his free arm around my waist.

A cool breeze meets my uncovered shoulder, a shiver running down my spine. Without even asking, Spencer removes his hand from my body, tucking his phone back into the pants pocket so that he can take his jacket off, resting it on top of my shoulders.

“Thank you.” I smile brightly at him. He leans down, placing a quick kiss on my lips with me, once again, wiping my lipstick off of him. I place my hand on his chest, running my hands up slightly to his shoulders. My eyes drift to his shirt, buttoned completely apart from the very top one. My fingers attach themselves to the second button, undoing it, then pulling the collar a little bit.

He smiles again, beginning to walk forward, making sure that his hand in mine, pulling me with him.

Inside the bar is a lot louder, music loud, with the people being even louder, talking, laughing. I get hit in the face with an overwhelming scent of cheap alcohol. With his hand still in mine, Spencer glances at me briefly before guiding me to a table filled with five people already sat there laughing among themselves.

Spencer notices my nervous look, leaning down to shout in my ear, “It’s okay, they’re going to love you.” He gives my hand a gentle squeeze just as one of the people at the table notices him, a tall-ish brunette girl.

She gets up from her chair with all of the group turning their heads to see the two of us. She moves to give Spencer a hug, her attention then turning to me. She holds her hand out towards me, “Hi, I’m Elle, nice to meet the girl that keeps a smile on the kid’s face.”

I put my hand in hers, shaking, “Faye, nice to meet you.” I only feel insanely intimidated by her whole ‘strong independent woman’ feel.

Behind her is Derek, who I remember meeting on the same day that I met Spencer. He has a bright smile that meets his eyes, “Wow, Faye, turn me down for this guy, huh?” I laugh with him.

“What can I say? He’s such a charmer, he’s got a lot more game than certain people. He also doesn’t perv on me when I’m getting changed.”

A colourful blonde girl now jumps in again, “Wait, wait, you’re the one that turned down Derek ‘Chocolate Thunder’ Morgan?” I nod slightly, enjoying the nickname that she’s given him. “Sorry, sorry...” she continues, “Penelope Garica, I’m sure you’ve heard lots about me.”

“I have actually, Spencer tells me that you’re the technical analyst, and that you’re very good at your job, and that you love the gossip.”

“I do, I do love the gossip, and I love the gossip that you are yet to tell me about 187 over there, come, sit down, next rounds on me, what are you drinking?”

Spencer jumps in for a second, “Wait, Morgan was watching you getting changed?” We all laugh.

“It wasn’t like that, Spence. When Isaac got suspended, I had to go in for a meeting with his Principal, I was wearing my painting clothes and had a nicer outfit in my car, but I got stuck for a second and Derek here happened to witness the whole situation.”

I place Spencer’s jacket on the back of his chair, taking a seat at the table between Spencer and Penelope. She orders everyone at the table a drink and I get introduced to Jennifer and Aaron, who everyone else calls ‘JJ’ and ‘Hotch’.

We sit and drink and chat for around an hour before Aaron makes a move to leave, before he does so he comes over to me, “It’s lovely to meet you, I think you’re really good for him.” He shakes my hand, his kind words putting a grin on my face.

For a minute, I was slightly confused as to why he was leaving early, Penelope leans closer, “His wife is pregnant, due in a couple months so he tries to spend as much time with her, while also not neglecting us, he’s basically a superhero.”

“In my book, you’re all superhero's, you all help so many people and you save lives. That’s a hard job, but it seems like you all do it well.” She seems  ecstatic with my comment.

Our attention is drawn to Spencer, who gets up from his seat. He leans down to my ear, “I’m going to the bathroom, are you going to  be okay?” I nod, glancing towards Penelope, and he leaves.

“Okay, I need to know all the details, red.” I look at Penelope with confusion set on my face. “ Oh don’t give me that look, have you kissed? Is he a good kisser? Have you had sex? I don’t want to know about that though, just if you have.”

“Hey, calm down, okay? Yes, we’ve kissed, and yes, he’s amazing. No, we haven’t slept together. With both of our schedules, and with me being my brother's guardian, there’s not really a good time for things like that. It’s difficult.”

“Oh, oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise about your brother, but I won’t pry.”

I nod, “Thank you.” I pause, “Now how about another round, who wants what?”

Derek stops me from getting up, “Nope,  nuh uh, you are our guest, you will not be buying tonight.”

As he leaves I turn to the petite blonde across from me, “So are you a profiler as well, Jennifer?”

“No, I’m the Media Liaison, I talk to press and police stations and pick the cases we take. Also, please call me JJ” She smiles, tucking a small piece of her blonde hair behind her ear.

Spencer comes back just as Derek returns with a round of drinks, as well as a round of shots for everyone. One by one, hands reach over to grab a small glass, even Spencer.

I pour the liquid into my mouth, coughing slightly as the liquid burns its way down my throat. I take Spencer’s large hand in mine. “Will you dance with me?” A nervous look can be seen in his eye. He doesn’t answer.

“Come on hun, we’ll dance with you.” The three girls smile, all getting up from their seats. Penelope grabs my arm, tugging me to join the others on the small, yet full dance floor. “Spencer’s not a big fan of PDA.” I nod feeling slightly discouraged.

As I dance with Penelope, I glance towards Spencer, who’s talking to Derek while watching me, but he turns back to Derek when he catches my eye.

The music was a lot louder on the dance floor than it was at the table, the bass of it, mixed with the heat didn’t feel great. I turn back to Penelope having to shout over the music, “I’m going to get some air.” I rush away before I get a response.

I push hard against the front door, a wave of cold air hits me as it opens, almost instantly cooling me down. I lean back against the wall, closing my eyes, taking deep breaths.

“Penny for your thoughts?” My eyes snap open as it was a voice that I wasn’t familiar with. Standing next to me now was a tall man with blonde-ish hair and dark eyes.

“It’s just a bit hot in there, my boyfriend is getting me water.” He raises his eyebrows, moving his hand to his inside pocket. I feel myself tense up, but I relax once I see him take out a cigarette box. He takes one out, resting it between his lips before holding the box out to me. I shake my head no, “Thanks, but-um, I don’t smoke.” He lights his own.

Then there’s a moment of silence between us.

“So, where is that boyfriend of yours?” I turn and look towards the door.

“He should be any minute.”

His eyes become darker.

I try and lighten the tension that I feel growing, a certain sense of fear filling my head, “I think I’ve seen you before, have we met?”

“No Faye Lewis, we haven’t.” He winks.

I freeze. He stands straight in front of me, taking a long drag of his lit cigarette, blowing a huge cloud of smoke in my face before turning and walking across the street, only glancing back briefly once he’d reached the other side of the road. I still don’t move, just watch his movements until he’s out of sight.

The door crashes open, Spencer now appearing into my line of sight.

“Hey, you disappeared, are you okay?” He places his hand on my upper arms in an affectionate matter, “God, you’re freezing.”

I don’t respond, still feeling scared because of the interaction a few minutes prior.

His warm hands now rest on my face, “Faye? What happened? Do you want to go home?” I nod slowly. “I’m just going to get my jacket, okay? Then I’m going to call us a taxi.”

“Okay.”


End file.
